Thoughts Arise

This morning as I gazed out the window, I imagined seeing the sky with new eyes. Consider being prevented from seeing the sky, until its memory begins to fade. If you then saw the vibrant hues of a sunrise what would you feel? Perhaps, seeing such splendor, you would be struck with awe. Not just by the beauty, but because of the magnitude. I felt as if I could sense the virtually infinite volume between me and the visual ceiling of the sky. It seemed to press down on me. It was not an oppressive force, but it was an irresistible one. It pushed me down, shrinking the ego to a speck, yet filling my heart to the brim. Oh, such joy to see majesty in its undiminished form!   Photo from www.freepik.com  

All experience occurs in the present. We add a sense of continuity with our imperfect memories and the concept of time. Sometimes a new object or experience captivates us and immerses us fully in the now . But in a meditative state it can seem that this novel quality exists in every moment; a newness in everything that is noticed. Every moment of experience has the potential for new sensations, thoughts, and shifts in perception. All of these arise on their own, without any effort on our part. With an appreciation of the passing of time, and of experience arising within each moment, comes a sense of flow . The contents of our mind are noticed, transfix us for a while, and are pushed aside by the next thing to arise. This arising of experience, the flow of perception and thoughts, this space in which the world appears is the feeling of being. What I am trying to describe is a felt state, not just a conceptual one. When one can shift perspective to notice the world this way, e...

In today’s meditation a poignant emotion took hold of me. I remembered friends that touched me deeply. Our lives have taken us far from each other, yet that old familiarity lingers. I felt nostalgia, but it took on a different hue as my awareness detached from the stream of memories. I realised that at some point in my life these cords of familiarity might pull me back. Or maybe they won't. The mood became less covetous and more joyous. Treasured moments come and go. If life continues, I will someday feel nostalgia for the present as well. Even our deepest connections are transient, and with anything of value comes the inevitability of loss. Our mind is in a state of flow on every scale of time. Pause for this moment and feel the rush of life that has led up to it from the last few seconds to decades past. We can’t stop or manage the flow. The only salve is to learn to let go.     Photo from gracecirocco.com  

I once believed in God. Surrounded by people who shared, affirmed, and enforced the belief, my faith became almost unquestionable. Religion gave me a glimpse of something. Not in the prescribed prayers, but in the moments spent searching my soul. Not through its practices, but by giving in to the magnificence of the world. Not through the words of scripture, but by contemplating infinity. I remember sitting at the edge of my bed, peering into the rain and becoming mesmerised by the spectacle. Emotion overwhelmed me, tears ran down my face, and I felt deeply connected to every raindrop falling from the sky, and every leaf that they touched.  I knew what caused rain, but my conceptual understanding of reality was swept away by the intricacy of subjective experience. I wept in awe and gratitude. It was one of the most profound moments in my life. I went through a phase where I searched for insights in holy scripture. But what I found there destroyed my faith. It was a myopic te...

Meditation Log April 18, 2020: I was on a run that hadn’t gone well. I wanted to attempt a personal best, but the wind was against me and I couldn’t keep up the pace. It felt like conscious effort at every step. I switched my watch from pace to distance, and on the last kilometer decided to let go. I dropped the goal, ignored the tug of discontentment, and let go of conscious effort. My feet kept moving and my breath joined the rhythm. The world pulled me onward and my chin lifted up. I consciously tried to move my sense of self down my body, towards the sensations of heart and breath. My vision seemed to shift lower too. Soon, the boundary of the top of my head disappeared. My vision became an extension of me; the observer. I was now running with the feeling of being shaped like an octahedron, the bottom starting around my cheekbones, expanding outwards, and shooting up into the sky. “Why an octahedron?” a thought asked. And the shape responded with change. It became a...

Meditation Log March 29, 2020: The instruction to look inwards must frustrate every student of meditation. I think I've finally found a technique that works for me with some degree of repeatability. Look at a wall, letting any objects in the foreground dissolve into a haze. Try to keep the gaze dispersed, extending to the corners of your eyes. Treat sight as if it were sound. Accept the fact that you are not sending out rays from your eyes, but that vision is appearing to you without effort. As the light from the wall comes to you, let it observe you. Look at yourself from the perspective of the wall. Are you in your head? Do you fill the room? Or does the room fill  part of you? Let your sense of self expand to encompass the room and rest in that moment.     Photo from TheMindfulGrind  

Meditation Log March 14, 2020: I woke up from a dream last night in a state of disorientation. I was aware of darkness and a feeling of discomfort. This state fully occupied my mind, perhaps in-between sleep and being fully awake. I later realized the discomfort was from a sore back, but in that moment the thought of having a body did not enter my mind. I then heard a noise; a movement next to me. And a murmur; my one year old daughter. And in that moment my consciousness expanded to her, the knowledge of my wife next to her, my body and the room around us. This change in awareness brought an immense feeling of relief and gratitude. My existence was not as limited as it had been a few moments ago. An ordinary moment, taken for granted every night, became exquisitely cathartic through a shift in perception. In a few seconds the depth of emotion faded. My mind contracted again to its usual self. But now I know there is something worse. And something far more expansive that can...